The stupidity of saint Stefan
by Hellsleprechaun
Summary: Stefan is attacked while walking home one night, Damon is not happy. No slash just brotherly love.


Damon sat on the smooth, dark leather of his living room sofa, drinking bourbon.

He was enjoying his drink in peace, when there was a loud and frantic pounding on the front door. A large part of him considered not answering, he was enjoying his privacy, but then he smelled the blood, his little brother's blood.

Damon wrenched open the door to Caroline and Jeremy, who were supporting a battered Stefan between them, they staggered through into the living room.

He felt his blood begin to boil as he caught sight of the stakes protruding from his brother's torso. There were two embedded into his back, on either side of his spine, and three had been gruesomely plunged into his stomach.

His face was contorted with pain, his breaths shallow gasps and his eyes were wet.

"Jeremy, go down to the basement and grab four bags of blood. Animal!" Damon ordered sharply.

Jeremy quickly obeyed, surrendering half of Stefan's weight to Caroline, who was more than capable of handling it.

He strode over to her and his brother and, before anyone could realise what he was doing, ripped the two stakes from his brother's back.

"Aaggh!" Stefan groaned noisily, a sob catching in his throat. He clenched his eyes shut, his pride refusing to let him cry in front of either Damon or Caroline.

Damon reached out to grab onto Stefan, who tried feebly to pull away.

"No…No…get..off." He mumbled, sounding less like a grown man and more like a little boy.

Damon held Stefan so that his back was to him, and he was facing Caroline. Who had an expression of extreme concern etched across her face.

"Sorry, little brother." Damon whispered, tightening his grip. One arm was wrapped over Stefan's arms, the other round his chest, to hold him in place.

"Caroline." He gestured with his chin to the stakes rooted in Stefan's belly.

For a split second she looked squeamish, but her eyes soon became determined, she nodded once.

Reaching out, she made sure her hold on the rough stake was secure before yanking it out as quickly as possible.

"Fuck! Urrgh!" Stefan stubbornly refused to open his eyes, but the tears escaped anyway, to his extreme chagrin.

He barely noticed that Jeremy had re-entered the room, he was in agony.

Caroline made to pull out the next one but Stefan shook his head. "Please, don't just…"

"We can't leave it in there, sorry." Damon uttered softly.

He knew that his older brother was right but…it hurt. At that moment leaving the stake in there seemed like the best option. The least painful anyhow.

Jeremy appeared sick.

"Jer, I am not cleaning up your vomit, if you're going to do it, do it in the bathroom." Damon warned.

Jeremy stayed anyway.

Damon could feel the warmth of Stefan's blood staining his shirt.

_There better be a good reason Stefan's in this situation. I liked this shirt._

Stefan lost his self control bit by bit, he howled as the next stake was torn out, and by the last he was openly sobbing.

"It's okay. It's okay, Stef." Damon comforted him, kissing him lightly on the side of the head.

If Stefan had been in a better way he would have been shocked, as it was Alaric could have exploded through the wall in a bull dozer and it would not have evoked much of a reaction from the man.

Damon laid Stefan down on the couch and opened a bag of blood.

Stefan's eyes were closing, his lids were excruciatingly heavy, all he wanted was to sleep.

He grunted as someone shook him. "G' way!" He slurred.

Damon smirked at his little brother acting like an eight year old.

_Little brother's! Do they all have to be so difficult?_

He gently tugged his brother's mouth open and poured some pigs blood in. He coughed at first, but as he tasted the blood, he began to slurp it down greedily. He ragged the next packet from Damon's hands before draining it.

As soon as Stefan had finished all of his blood, his eyes shut and his body relaxed.

Damon smiled slightly, stroked Stefan's pale brown hair once and approached Caroline and Jeremy.

Both were feeling slightly uncomfortable. They had seen each brother save the other's life before and they had seen the two working and fighting side by side. But never had they seen Damon acting so… caring.

"What happened?" Damon asked quietly, but the rage was clearly bubbling beneath his calm tone.

"I was just walking down the street when I smelled Stefan, and I smelled all the blood. I ran to him and he was… I thought he was going to die. I ran to the grill looking for you and found Jeremy, we managed to carry him back here but we didn't hear what happened. Every time we asked he just…mumbled something incoherent." Caroline explained.

Jeremy tried and failed to hold back a loud yawn, it had been a long night.

"He's sleeping now so, you guys may as well go home. Try to hold Elena off until morning."

They turned to leave.

"Err…thanks." Damon called after them, both halted for a brief second in surprise before regaining their composures.

Damon found a thick blanket and draped it over his sleeping brother's slim form.

He then sat in the chair by the fire, and watched Stefan for a few moments.

_You're being over protective!_

"No I'm not. I'm not down here just for him I'm…finishing my bourbon." Damon insisted to himself stubbornly.

The next morning Stefan awoke to a cloudy memory, he was unsure as to why he was on the couch, what had happened last night and why his torso was throbbing with an insistent pain.

He glanced up to notice Damon standing above him with a glass of blood.

Still confused, Stefan shook his head minimally.

Damon arched one brow. "I wasn't asking you, I was telling you." He said in that arrogant tone of his.

Stefan would ordinarily have argued, but he felt weak and sore. He didn't think Damon beating the crap out of him would help.

Giving up, he accepted the hot, sweet blood, gulping it down swiftly.

"What happened last night?" He inquired warily, hoping he hadn't done something unspeakably embarrassing that Damon could taunt him about for the rest of eternity.

"Funny, I was planning to ask you exactly the same thing." Damon said ironically.

It was then, that a memory floated to the surface of his mind, a memory of screaming…as Caroline staked him? No! As Caroline pulled a stake _out of him_.

"Jeremy and Caroline…helped me home?"

Damon snorted with slight amusement. "_Helped_? Dragged is more like. You could barely walk!"

He paused for a few minutes, which felt like much longer.

"I was… I was leaving Elena's. On my way home I…" He trailed off, he felt moronic. "There was this other vampire, a man. He told me he needed help so…"

"Oh my God! You idiot! He told you he needed help, so you, being Saint Stefan, walked right over to him and he attacked you?"

He was seething. How could his brother be so stupid? He was torn between hugging Stefan for still being naïve enough to want to see the best in people and smacking him for being idiotic enough to want to see the best in people.

He opted for the latter, his hand shot out and cracked his little brother around the side of the head.

"Ow!" Stefan whined.

"Don't be a baby! You deserved that, in fact you deserved worse. What the hell were you thinking? You're not exactly an optimist, surely you suspected that he might be lying to you!"

"I was going to leave him but…. Then I wondered what if he did need help, and I…felt bad." Stefan admitted, flushing slightly at how ridiculous he sounded.

Damon gaped for a moment, he then leaned down so that he could be eye to eye with Stefan.

"If you ever do anything so idiotically reckless again I will beat the stupid out of you."

That night Damon strolled carelessly along the streets of Mystic Falls, out of the darkness a desperate voice called out.

"Help me, please! Please! I need help!"

Damon turned his wide concerned eyes to the man at the end of the alley. He was short, but thickly built, with a light moustache and a beer belly.

He did not look like much.

Damon speed down the alley towards him.

"What happened? Are you alright?" Damon worried.

"No, I-"

He did not finish his sentence, nor did he ever speak another.

Damon, moving like lightening had stabbed his steak deep into the chest of the fat little vampire, piercing his heart brutally, his eyes bulged, he let out one last shaky breath.

His skin greyed and withered, whilst Damon smirked smugly. "Bye bye tubby!" He mocked in a sing-song voice.

He used his supernatural speed to exit the alley faster than any human eye could detect.

"He's dead!" He announced as he plonked down onto the couch, next to his brother.

Stefan smiled. "Thanks."

"No need to thank me, you've done me a favour."

Stefan's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Well, that pathetic old vampire made a kebab out of you, and I destroyed him without a scratch to show for it. I am going to spend the rest of your life bragging about this and using it to win any argument proving that I am the better brother." Damon announced gleefully. "Enjoy little brother!"

He ruffled Stefan's hair once before walking up the stairs to his room, still laughing.

**Author's note: There was no real point to this, just something I'd been thinking about for a while. It may be a little OOC.**


End file.
